


Living the Dues

by lori (zakhad)



Series: Captain and Counselor [25]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troi takes a temporary assignment on another ship and the relationship shifts to long distance mode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living the Dues

**Author's Note:**

> Stardates calculated from a somewhat-arbitrary starting point by the handy javascript calculator at http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Rampart/4173/stardate.html. Though the dates may not make sense in any timeline including mine, the span of time between them is important to the story overall. Usually, the messages to and from Deanna are a day apart and any longer spans are indicated within the text.

_Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice but to carry on.  
The fortunes of fables are able to see the stars,  
now witness the quickness with which we carry on  
to sing the blues, you've got to live the dues, and carry on._

_Girl, when I was on my own chasing you down,  
what was it made you run, tryin' your best just to get around.  
The questions of a thousand dreams what you do and what you see  
lover, can you talk to me? _~~ Crosby, Stills &amp; Nash

\------------------

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523  
FROM: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
SENT: 53282.56

I hope your journey was uneventful. I hope also that the duration of your stay on the *Mephistopheles* will be pleasant. I don't doubt that Captain Segar will have good things to say about you when all is said and done. This comes at an awkward time, but Command obviously believes it's necessary. We'll manage with the Lokalisi, though you will certainly be missed.

Good luck, and godspeed.

 

\-------------------------

TO: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
FROM: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523  
SENT: 53286.58

Thank you, Captain, for such a *warm* message. {chuckling} Honestly, Jean-Fish, for a moment you worried me. I leave the ship and suddenly you sound like the Captain Picard of yore. For a moment I thought my shuttle might have found a quantum singularity to fly through.

But I know you were overcompensating. Saying good-bye was difficult for me, too. It's only for a while, and you'll be surprised at how fast the time will pass.

One day, and I already know what the remainder of my stay here will be like. Hectic. They never give us simple tasks in Starfleet, do they? Captain Segar is just as I thought he'd be, but Vulcans are both the easiest and most difficult to work with -- you know what to expect, yet it's still surprising to find such coldness when trying to have a simple conversation.

Amusing that on a ship of this name we have a CO with pointed ears. Some of the crew think it's actually fitting. Of course, I knew that, it's part of the reason I'm here. The surprising thing is how emotionally-charged the atmosphere on the bridge becomes when Segar comes out of the lift. I could sense it change. Like diving from a summer day into an ice-cold swimming pool. I expected some emotional reaction, but I'd call this an over-reaction.

The senior officers are responding well to me. The ops manager reminds me a little of Ward, but only in that cherub-cheeked eagerness -- don't you dare start laughing when you look at Ward, now, that's just between us, and don't even think of calling him a cherub. Anyway, his name's Devlin Garabedian. Another Devil on the Mephistopheles, he says, as he smiles -- I wondered if he weren't related to the Rikers somehow, he has blue eyes and that puckish grin. Tactical is manned by Sheila Kabilla, a colonist from Alpha Centauri, good at what she does and very solemn, just what Segar would want. She reminds me of Tasha the way she sets her jaw sometimes. Helm is usually Ensign Jer Llaren. Yes, Bajoran -- a coincidence of names, that's all. She's nothing like Ro Llaren. No hard edge, no attitude, quite eager to take orders. She warmed up to me quickest.

But it's not our bridge, and I'm not a permanent fixture, so it's tough. They know better than to get attached to me -- why waste more energy than necessary on the short-termer? I'll also be filing reports that will have an impact on their futures, so they're a little nervous.

Leave it to Gaines to take advantage of the only exec with a psychology degree. I got a message from him -- it was waiting for me when my shuttle arrived. He thanked me profusely and apologized again for taking me away from you. Like that would make up for it.

These quarters are dull and lifeless, and the bed's too hard. I'm looking at Beta Cygnus right now, what do you see in your sky? Strange how stars can be so hot, yet appear so cold and distant.

I found them. You spoil me, Jean-Fish. Thank you. Chocolate is a poor substitute for ma cher fish, but if anything comes close, it would be raspberry-dark chocolate truffles.

 

\-------------------------

 

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
SENT: 53288.67

Sorry about that message -- frankly, I'm finding this harder than I imagined. I'm so used to communicating with you on so many levels that being reduced to words alone is giving me fits. Please forgive me if this is short. I nearly called direct, but you said that would only make it difficult -- I'm sorry now that I disagreed, because I think you're right. I don't think I would be able to take it.

My sky is moving at warp four at the moment. The bridge isn't the same -- deLio seems more solemn than usual. Ward's cherub-cheeks aren't showing so often as they used to. We'd just started to establish a normal atmosphere, make the adjustment -- we knew the change from Data to you was that drastic, but unexpectedly the crew seems to feel your absence more.

Or is that me projecting my own feelings on them?

*sigh*

Damned empath. Worked your way under my skin and left me to --

I know. Sorry. Poor manners to encourage you and then complain about it. You knew I would. You always know what my reaction will be, what I'll --

*8.3 second pause*

Get it done already and come home. I can tell this is not going to be easy.

 

\-------------------------

 

TO: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E  
FROM: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
SENT: 53290.79

Jean, honestly, I've only been gone four days and you already sound like I've been gone a month. Stiff upper lip, Captain. If I can do it, you can.

Thank you for forwarding the message from Beverly. She sends her greetings. Tom apparently got into trouble on Boh'vis Six and needed to have sharp objects removed from sensitive portions of his anatomy. She says he sits down like an old man now, and that she can play connect-the-dots down his back from shoulders to knees. You thought *I* was irreverent? I can think of much better things to do with your body than. . . oh, never mind. I'm sorry.

Separation makes me irritable too, you're not the only one. I nearly took off Devlin's head in the officer's mess -- the fool goosed me as I was sitting down. I didn't fully realize that this crew had been out on the edges of Federation territory for so long, out of sync with the rest of Starfleet. It's either that or Segar doesn't believe the news net is necessary, which given his overall lack of tolerance for frivolity would not surprise me. I informed Devlin of my marital status and he backed off, even apologized quite sincerely. I then informed him who I was married *to* and he nearly fell out of his chair. I won't have any further difficulty from him.

They all think I'm a telepath, a full Betazoid, and I haven't disillusioned them. One good glare and it makes them think of something else to keep me from picking up what they were thinking. Since their thoughts change their emotions, it becomes easier to deal with them.

I'm going riding in the holodeck tonight at nineteen hundred. I wish you could join me. Do me a favor, and check in my bottom drawer? I think I forgot my riding pants. If I didn't, someone's been in my things, and my paranoia wasn't unfounded. I'm getting bad vibes from somewhere. Nothing to worry about -- don't start swearing. Just some unsettling emotions from someone who passed close by my quarters last night. Could've been anything. But that plus the way my things were in disarray when I unpacked -- though that may have been simply having the case thrown around when the pilot tried to show off. They sent a hotshot to get me from starbase. He's even younger than Natalia.

How is she, by the way? Have you seen her lately? I don't think I've seen her in a couple of weeks. I know you won't go out of your way to talk to her but she's scheduled for alpha shift helm next week. I had to do something to cheer up Captain Grumpy. If a smile from the surrogate niece doesn't add a bright second or two to your day, at least she'll get more experience.

I listened to your message in bed, in the darkness, so I can pretend you're sitting nearby talking to me. I couldn't sleep, not even after warm milk, until I heard your voice.

 

\-------------------------

 

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
SENT: 53293.63

Natalia said she would send a message herself. She's fine, of course. At her request, I took her to the Picard stable with me. She rides well. She tried Nacelle, the mare you programmed yourself, and fell off at the south fence trying to jump it. I don't think I've heard her laugh that hard before.

I've been doing too much thinking. Since I can't help but think of you, I keep replaying memories -- all the way back to that first night we spent walking and talking, figuring out the shape of us. I still find it difficult to believe you actually teased me so much, and I actually enjoyed it. And that I miss it so much that you aren't here to make terrible jokes for me to groan about.

Of course, thinking didn't help me sleep, so eventually I read. And since you are helped by hearing my voice, I thought I'd read you to sleep. I've attached the recording I made -- if my rendition of "Merchant of Venice" doesn't put you to sleep, nothing will.

And yes, I'm finally getting around to inflicting Shakespeare on you.

The pants -- they're not here. I can't imagine why anyone would take your clothing. Dee, lock your door. Go to bed with a phaser under your pillow. Take precautions, for God's sake, don't let anything happen to you.

*deep sigh*

I wish you were here.

 

\-------------------------

 

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Ensn. Natalia R. Greenman, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
SENT: 53293.87

Hi, Commander, it's me.

Shoot, that was a dumb thing to say. Can you tell I don't send many of these? {hiccuping laugh}

The captain said you asked how I was. I'm doing great -- I'm getting better at pool. Commander La Forge actually said he misses me in engineering. I miss it too, deLio's really quiet and a bit scary. He just *looks* at you, doesn't say a lot other than giving orders, and when he does -- shit, I thought I'd die in hand-to-hand training the other day. But that's security for you, I guess. It's necessary. I'll cope.

Commander, I'm a little worried. The captain's fine, don't get me wrong, but -- well, he probably told you we went riding in the stable program. It's a great program, I tried to ride one of yours. She dumped me on the ground. It hurt, but I just about laughed myself silly -- I had to. He looked that worried about me. Which isn't like him, not in the least. When he's on duty he's the same as always, but it's like being in the riding program actually hurt him all the time. He kept looking back at me over his shoulder and catching himself doing it -- I think he was looking for you out of habit. And my falling made it worse, like being concerned about me on top of what he already felt just pushed him right over the limit. It kinda scared me that it was so obvious. You've only been gone a couple days, and he really misses you, bad. He tries like hell not to let it show. I don't know, maybe it'll get better as he goes along.

How's it going with the Vulcan captain? Now, that I can't picture. You with a Vulcan CO! The captain might be formal, but he's definitely not Vulcan.

Well, guess that's about it. I'll send another message later. Hope everything's okay there. Oh, and thanks for the alpha shift helm! I just about hit the ceiling when I got the schedule. I'm so excited, I get to sit next to Mr. Carlisle -- I'll just bet you he's a lot easier to talk to than Jamramis.

*4.9 second pause*

Oh. Mr. Carlisle's filling in for you, isn't he?

*3 second pause*

You haven't moved Jamramis to alpha, too, have you?

Aw, forget I said anything. Thanks, anyway, and I'll keep an eye on *him* for you. Well, okay, for me too, I'm worried, all right? Poor guy. Tame him and then -- {throat clearing} Sorry. I know better, that you've gotta be missing --

Sorry.

Geeze, I'm stupid sometimes. Forget it, I'm starting this --

 

\-------------------------

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Ensn. Natalia R. Greenman, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E  
SENT: 53293.89

You know that last message? I'm really, really, really sorry, I hit send instead of delete, and it went -- damn computer's too quick for me. Just edit out the really stupid rude nosy stuff, okay? I must've had too much of whatever that stuff was that someone brought to the pool game earlier.

In fact, can we just pretend I never sent the message in the first place?

Please, please, please don't tell the captain I said anything. I don't want to die. Not that he'd kill me, but I'd be embarrassed to the point of wanting to bash my head against a bulkhead.

So how's it going where you're at? Bet you don't have any half-drunk ensigns on *that* ship!

Okay, this time I'm quitting while I'm ahead. Hope you speak to me sometime within the next year or so, after you maybe forgive me for sticking my big fat nose in your business.

I am *so* sorry. In both senses of the word. Damn.

 

\-------------------------

TO: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
FROM: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-3452  
3  SENT: 53296.18

Captain, I suggest you order a surprise level one diagnostic at an odd hour, say three hundred or so. There's a still on board somewhere, and I suspect you'll find it in the lower decks.

Never mind how I know that. Chalk it up to a first officer's hunch.

And Jean-Fish -- be a little more captain and a little less informal with Natalia for the time being. You've managed to make her worry herself into babbling. It's not like her to run on so much.

I know it's hard, cher -- maybe you should stay out of the stables for a while. Maybe you should visit the gym more often instead. Say hello to Ensign Gomez for me.

And thank you, very much, for the recording. Well-read, Jean. Very well read. If Bev were still aboard she'd have you playing Portia. Though she'd just do it to see you in the dress and a wig -- I liked the mercy speech at the end. You'd also make a convincingly-seething Shylock, I think.

But did you ever get any sleep? The whole play, Jean? Do I have to send orders to Mengis to break in and administer a sedative?

Please take better care of yourself, Jean-Luc, and pick up those shoes I know you're tripping over. So help me, if you break your neck in our quarters for no good reason, I'll wait for Mengis to heal it up and break it again.

Read me some of the sonnets next, some of Rossetti's too. And maybe some Dickens. Just not that Christmas Carol thing -- try Pickwick Papers or Oliver Twist.

\-------------------------

 

*******ENCRYPTED PRIORITY MESSAGE VOICE AUTHORIZATION ONLY********

TO: Lt. Cmdr. Gregory Mengis, M.D., ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
FROM: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
SENT: 53296.2

Attached are the results of tests run by Dr. Klav, the CMO here. Could you please give me a second opinion on this? I'm not certain I care for the way he handled it.

Then again, I've been somewhat short-tempered since I've been here. Andorians don't have reassuring bedside manners to begin with, either. I'd appreciate your complete confidentiality for the time being -- please keep this out of official reports, just for a little while. I don't want the captain to know. I suspect he's got enough on his mind without my adding to it.

******END MESSAGE******

\-------------------------

TO: Ensn. Natalia R. Greenman, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
FROM: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
SENT: 53296.22

Ensign, review regulations regarding alcoholic beverages aboard the ship. When you are sober enough to tell me what you ought to do next, send me a message explaining your interpretation of those regulations.

Natalia. . . you're quite correct, it really isn't your business. But you see him as your friend and mentor, and your concern is quite understandable. I know he misses me, and it might show off duty, but you shouldn't confront him about it -- ignore it as much as you can.

I want you to do me a favor. Every fourth day, starting when you get this message, I want you to go to the Ching's quarters exactly fifteen minutes before alpha shift and tell Mama Malia you want a swan box. She'll give you a package. I'd like you to put the first one outside captain's quarters on the floor in the center of the door. Get out of the corridor, the captain will come out no less than five minutes of the hour on his way to the bridge. Do not tell him it's you who left it. He may suspect, but you officially know nothing. You'll have to be sneaky the second and third time -- he'll try to figure out who's doing it. The second one, try sneaking it into the ready room, or his chair on the bridge. The third one you can come up with a creative delivery method on your own.

Thanks, Natalia. I owe you a chocolate sundae.

Things are not going very well here. I can't give you details, of course. And I don't want you to give that fact away to the captain. The last thing we need is to add to his worries.

 

\-------------------------

 

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
SENT: 53301.48

Found the still. Deck twenty-three, behind piles of storage containers in a hold. It's gone now, you can count on that. When we find out who built it, someone's going to have sore ears and a black mark on their record!

And I know how you knew -- Natalia showed up in my office red as a tomato, dragging her heels and shrugging into a chair, and promptly confessed she'd imbibed illicit hooch. She fully expected to be thrown off the ship. After extricating the truth of the matter from her, that someone else had given it to her at the pool tournament the other night, we had a little talk about the matter. I let her off easy this time, since my first officer didn't seem to think it merited real punishment.

And WHO the HELL is Ensign Gomez? Dammit, if there's another bunch of oglers hanging around the weight room, I swear I'll --

*20.4 seconds silence*

How is it going, with the crew? The assignment? You've told me nothing for a couple of days now. You must be busy, it's been a full day since -- I'm sorry. That's my fault, I dropped the ball. I didn't respond to your last. . . .

Is it hajira that does this to me? Is this going to happen every time? Why physical symptoms, for an emotional bond? It isn't as bad as it was when Q hijacked me into an alternate universe, and it's not as sharp as when I went to Zanzibar, but every night -- every night --

I'm going to start doing these messages from my ready room, so I don't sound like a damned fool. Impossible to do this sitting here in our quarters where you are so conspicuously absent and all I --

*8.2 seconds silence*

Dee. . . ma cherie, darling cygne, how did you do it? The gift. . . thank you. It made me late to the bridge, but it --

*55 seconds silence*

Why is it that you're with Mephistopheles, yet I'm the one in hell?

 

\-------------------------

TO: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E  
FROM: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
SENT: 53304.72

I know hajira has something to do with it. I brought one of your shirts with me for that reason. Having something that smells like you seems to help. I know it sounds somewhat odd, but it helped when you were on Zanzibar. Your voice helps, too, Jean -- thank you. The sonnets are even more beautiful when you read them to me.

Don't burst a vessel over Ensign Gomez. I was kidding, cher fish.

The crew -- Segar isn't the heart of the problem. He's just being a Vulcan, and reacts to interpersonal crises by becoming more Vulcan still. I think I've deciphered what it is he's reacting to, however, and untangled the dynamics at work. I have appointments with the key players. I'll have it in control soon.

I've attached my recording of something I read last night. Maybe it will make the nights easier if we do this. You're right -- I'm so used to the subliminal ways we communicate that I am at a loss for what to say. There's so much, yet there are no words, yet I so want to hear you talk to me. Like my paternal grandmother would say, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Along those lines -- when you're in hell, toast a marshmallow.

I'm sorry. My usual silliness doesn't seem to be working properly. I wish I could do that much for you, I'm completely at a loss and your voice --

*message paused*

Be well, Jean-Fish, and don't dwell on my absence. I love you.

 

\-------------------------

*****ENCRYPTED PRIORITY MESSAGE VOICE AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED*****

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Lt. Cmdr. Gregory Mengis, M.D., ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
SENT: 53296.02

The test results are what they are, Commander, and I'm sure based on what you told me last time that you knew about it long before you went in for the test. Though I dislike the look of some of the readings, and would have taken different steps to counter them, Klav did well. It appears the effects of the stress you are under were not so pronounced as last time -- of course, last time you were under unimaginable duress with the captain missing and with the responsibilities you undertook. The countermeasures Klav took were effective enough. You should be fine, now that you know for certain and you can anticipate and counter further stressors.

Congratulations are in order. I believe you need to inform the captain. Although, I suspect that it would make it harder for the him, if you were to tell him before your return. I will respect your wishes, though it does have to go in the logs. I can postpone mention of this in my reports until your return.

I am attaching my recommendations for your diet and exercise, and I also suggest that you pay closer attention to your sleep patterns. If your current duties entail significant emotional stress, you should take frequent breaks. Let me know if you have difficulty convincing Captain Segar of this. I have worked with Segar before and he would listen to me. In fact, I will take the liberty of dispatching my recommendations to him now, as well as forwarding a copy of the attached to Klav.

I must chastise you for not coming in sooner. Perhaps you wavered because you had lost one before, and did not wish to raise hopes only to lose another. That's understandable, but you should have come in anyway. It would have been best for both of you. When you are back aboard, come see me in sickbay for a full physical. We'll take better care of you this time, Deanna. Whether you let us or not. Now that there's someone aboard who can pull rank on you, we may be able to get you to term.

Don't misunderstand me, I completely understand your devotion to your duties and admire your professionalism. I merely accept that I am at a loss myself of how to combat your stubbornness. The captain is better able to do that, I think. It's a matter of leverage.

Again, congratulations. We have so few children aboard that I'm looking forward to this. It's been a while since I've had to deliver a baby.

******END MESSAGE******

 

 

\-------------------------

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Ensn. Natalia R. Greenman, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E  
SENT: 53307.18

Hi, Commander. Sorry about the messages the other day. I'm ashamed of myself for that. I talked to the captain about it and things are worked out. I wrote an essay on my interpretation of the regulations you mentioned and attached it to this.

The captain's doing better, I think. Though it was a little weird that he gave me a hug after our discussion. Not bad, just odd. Guess I reminded him a little more of his daughter than usual, or something, and it felt like that, like an uncle or a dad kind of hug. He said I could use his holo-stable without him, gave me a passcode and sent me on my way.

Not much else to say. The helm is the helm, Commander deLio has me doing occasional turns at the secondary stations on the second half of beta, and I'm reading Austen. Yeah, the captain suggested it. Weird books. It's like reading about a different world. I keep having to ask the computer to define things.

Hope things are getting better for you. I miss you, which is weird since I don't normally see you around much except in passing, but the ship is a nicer place with you on it. Talk to you later.

 

\-------------------------

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E  
SENT: 53310.23

I'm sorry. I haven't had much to say for a couple of days. Difficult to come up with things that aren't mission-specific or that you don't already know.

Natalia is doing well on the bridge. I'm quite satisfied with her behavior -- she handles herself like a professional, doesn't let her attention waver from what she's supposed to be doing, and speaks to the other officers with respect. I knew from Geordi's reports that she'd improved remarkably, but this is the first time I've seen her on the job for an extended period.

Mengis behaved strangely in a briefing the other day. He stared at me oddly, but when I looked at him he shook his head and said nothing. I've found myself wishing we could find a way of replacing him. I'd ask Beverly for recommendations if Mengis would simply find a new posting, but I suppose that's not going to happen. He's doing well enough on the job, it's just his manner that bothers me.

Malia and Kenny came by last night and visited for a while. That boy gets bigger every time I see him. He wanted to know where you were -- hard to explain to him what a temporary assignment is. When I told him you were someone else's first officer for a while and that you'd come back, he accepted that, then got big-eyed and wanted to know what would happen if you decided you liked it there. Boy's been around officers all his life, you can tell.

*12.45 second pause*

You don't like it there, do you?

*5 second pause*

Of course not. How stupid of me.

Did you ever find your riding pants? Anything further develop along those lines, or was it the unsettled feeling of being in a strange place? Information, Deebird, or I'll pull the rest of my hair out.

I couldn't seem to manage reading anything last night. I tried playing my flute instead. The result was less than stellar. And thank you, for your recording. I've never heard you read anything like that before. I'm glad you picked Wizard of Oz -- though I'm feeling like a tin man lately. . . or the scarecrow, after all his straw was taken out of him by the monkeys.

I'm holding up. It's a little easier than it was in the beginning. I don't know if that's something I should worry about or not. It was a relief at first but it occurred to me -- what if this separation damages the bond? And while I know we're more than that, and that it's something that could be renewed, it's. . . unsettling.

Take care of yourself. Come home. I say that, knowing it won't change things, but at the moment, sitting here with this second gift on my desk, it's all that I can say. It's all I want.

\-------------------------

 

TO: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
FROM: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523  
SENT: 53312.91

I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner that I did find my pants, rolled up in a different place than I'd thought I put them. And I discovered the source of that upsetting emotional emanation I sensed -- it was nothing. I was sensing a non-human crew member's frustrations -- his quarters are on the deck above mine. I was being paranoid. I've been on edge this whole time, it's just being in a new place.

I've been so busy between the first officer's duties and my added duty of unraveling the difficulties between the senior officers that I've been exhausted and spending much of my off time sleeping, so I'm afraid the correspondence has been accumulating -- Beverly keeps bothering me. She's undergoing the expected ups and downs of having to face Tom's habit of flying in where angels fear to tread. Natalia tells me you suggested Austen, which is completely foreign to her -- not all of us are so backwards-looking as you, cher. I've tried to read it too, and the language is very different than what I'm accustomed to.

And don't be so quick to replace Mengis. I've been thinking that perhaps he's adjusting finally -- I've noticed he isn't so stiff as he used to be.

I'm happy to say that the end is in sight. Only five more days. Don't worry about the bond. I would know if there were a reason to worry.

I dreamed last night that I could feel your arms around me. I've never dreamed that way before, with such convincing clarity -- I woke up smiling. It will be so good to be home again. I'd love to play with my sex toy right now. I'll have to settle for dreaming of you again tonight, hopefully.

Do you dream of me, Jean-Fish? Do we dream the same dream? Do the stars laugh for you? You're out there among them, so I think of you, as you were at home in the treehouse, when we wrapped ourselves in the blanket and watched the stars spin in the heavens -- I can hear you humming again in my ear. I can feel the vibration of it in my hair, against my scalp, and your arms around me tight.

Not long now. But too long, nevertheless.

\-------------------------

 

TO: Cmdr. Deanna Troi, MEPHISTOPHELES NCC-34523    
FROM: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E    
SENT: 53316.16

Cherie, I have dreamed of nothing but you since you left.

Last night, I dreamed we were at the chateau. The new moon overhead, and the stars, and the wind sighing in the trees outside -- we were in bed with the covers heaped over us, and an extra blanket. Your skin felt silky, almost smoother than the sheets, and your lips against my skin made me shiver. You were being gentle, running your hands over me as if admiring me. I kissed you, I could taste you, and the soft sounds you make were all I could hear.

I dreamed we woke to snow. That you looked at the patterns of the frost on the window, and wrapped a blanket around yourself to go touch it. As you stood there at the open window with the cold air turning your breath to fog, as you smiled and caught a snowflake in your palm and brought it to your lips, you looked at me and I wanted to live in that moment for a year, a decade, so I could appreciate it as much as it deserved.

I dreamed we were on the porch, watching snow falling, watching children throwing snowballs. I watched you pick up one of them, the little girl, and turn to me. And then I woke up.

It would be easier if you were here. I don't dream this way when I have you with me. I don't have to, because I can see these things in your eyes, hear them in that constant, silent conversation you and I have. The conversation I miss so acutely.

It's your fault. This gift, the snowglobe, with the children playing in snow against a backdrop of trees -- the dreams were because of it. You probably meant to suggest it -- it reminded me of what we talked about once, when we were looking through old photographs at the chateau in winter, and the pictures of Picard children playing in the snow. And the gift before it, the holocube and images of you -- some of them were from the honeymoon. When we were at the chateau. The one I took of you under the treehouse, your expression --

*89.9 second pause*

Dee, what are you doing? What are you trying to tell me? I get the feeling I've been subtly manipulated, and not out of some whimsical impulse of yours. I've been so busy missing you when not wrapped up in work that --

Deanna, don't -- this is too excruciating. Call me. Tonight. I don't care what we said about it being too difficult, I *have* to talk to you.

 

\-------------------------

*****INITIATE TRANS -- RECIPIENT ADMIRAL ROBERT J. GAINES, STARFLEET COMMAND    
ORIGIN ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E -- STARDATE 53315.22 *****

"Admiral Gaines' office."

"Lieutenant -- Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Is the admiral in?"

"Yes, sir, I'll let him know you're on -- hold please. . . . Just a moment, Captain, I'll put you right through."

"Jean-Luc, what a pleasure -- how is everything? I can guess why you're calling, I'll bet."

"Do I get my officer back, or do I have to go looking for her myself?"

"Captain, you knew this assignment would take a while. It wasn't a simple problem."

"I want my first officer on *my* bridge where she belongs. This is ridiculous -- she's my officer, and you yank her off my ship and put her on some science vessel in the middle of nowhere to do a job any counselor could have done. I'd like a better explanation of why than I was provided. I recognize that I don't have a right to all the details, and orders are orders, but is it too much to ask that I be given some justification for this?"

"I'm not certain I like your tone of voice, Captain."

*pause* "I'm sorry, Admiral. It's just difficult -- there are reasons for having an exec. Not that the second officer isn't filling in passably enough, but it's difficult to establish equilibrium on a bridge with a new officer when she's not even here. And while it's true that she's not technically new, as a first officer she's completely different, from what she was as a counselor *and* from Data. At this rate I'm never going to have a smoothly-functioning bridge crew!"

"Jean-Luc. Stop it. Before you lose control."

"Don't -- "

"Tell you what to do? I believe that's what admirals do. Have you gotten any sleep lately? You look exhausted."

{sigh} "It's been a difficult mission. First contact situation, and I've missed the two senior officers upon whom I had come to depend so heavily. Data could have run the ship with confidence, and Counselor Troi would have been a boon to the mission -- I had forgotten how much I relied on her ability to placate even the strangest of aliens. Though it's true she would have been running the ship rather than being counselor, at least she would have done it without interrupting what I was doing with questions."

"And aside from all that, you miss your wife."

"Well, yes."

{chuckling} "You say that as if it were the least of your reasons -- I suspect I should attribute that earlier passion to this reason. She'll be home to you in a few days, Jean-Luc. I've already received a couple of reports -- she's making excellent progress. And she sounds just as eager to be back as you are to have her back. Hang in there, Captain. Commander Rush and Counselor Doman are on their way to rendezvous with the *Mephistopheles* as we speak. When they arrive, Deanna will brief them and depart."

"I didn't realize they didn't have a counselor."

"Well. . . . {sigh} An entire away team was lost. Part of the problem, as Deanna discovered, was that the crew, all of whom had a good rapport with the first officer, believed Segar's decision to take the ship out of danger immediately rather than risk further fatalities was premature and that a rescue attempt should have been made. She dissected the circumstances, weighed the facts and the people, and facilitated communication between Segar and the crew. And while it's true the new counselor might have done the same, we wanted someone who had experience with Vulcans. Doman hadn't encountered a Vulcan before; there are that few of them in the fleet these days. That she could also fill in as XO until a new one arrived was a bonus."

"I see. For a moment I thought perhaps it was another of your tests, to see how well we functioned with her on another ship. Admiral. . . it was a test, wasn't it?"

"Captain -- "

"What you described wasn't in any way a dire circumstance. *Any* counselor could have handled it! This is *ludicrous*! All you've put us through, and now this! We are *not* anyone's test subjects!"

"Captain, before you explode, remember the concessions made for you? You've made an arrangement that would be inappropriate under every other circumstance. You have an XO and a wife, and they're the same person. And it seems to work."

"It would work a hell of a lot better if we were allowed to do our jobs! I want my officer back. NOW. Not in a few days. I've had it with this incessant prying!"

"Captain!"

"Did the JAG want this? Who issued the order?"

"I did. This is strictly Starfleet Medical, strictly a matter of the well-being of a command crew of one of our ships."

"I want my officer back, dammit, and I want an end to the manipulations!"

"Your first officer will return to you as scheduled. As for future examinations of the status of the professional relationship between yourself and Commander Troi -- "

"There will be no further 'examinations.' Because if you attempt this sort of experimentation again, you will have no test subjects. You will have instead a lawsuit, and a ship without a captain. I *will not* be subjected to your psychological games! I appreciate that I've been given leeway to prove that I can work efficiently and professionally with my wife, Admiral, but I've proven it already -- if you want data on how we are functioning, speak to my ship's counselor instead of resorting to mind games."

"I was going to say, Captain, that I had not planned to conduct any. Her performance has been exemplary, in spite of her condition and -- "

"What condition?"

"Oh. . . ."

"Admiral. What condition? Are you saying she is ill?"

"Not at all. Just that the last time we spoke she seemed tired -- I do believe she misses you that much that it's pushed her to work -- "

"If she's not on a shuttle today, I'm altering course. And filing a complaint. My next mission will begin in four days, and I want my crew intact for it!"

"Captain. . . this wasn't a 'manipulation,' as you call it. Deanna's mission had no hidden agenda. Segar is a captain of long standing, almost as long as yourself, and the difficulties he was experiencing required a soft touch. Softer and subtler than Doman could manage. He's a good counselor, don't get me wrong, but Deanna's better."

"She's my *first officer* Admiral! She is a critical part of my bridge crew! No more of your manipulation, not for *any* reason -- if the JAG office wants an assessment done, they'd better ask someone else to conduct it! Picard out."

"Captain, I -- "

*****END TRANS*****

 

\-------------------------

 

TO: Fleet Admiral Elena Nechayev, STARFLEET COMMAND    
FROM: Cptn. Jean-Luc Picard, ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E  
SENT: 53315.26

Elena, I've attached a transcript of a conversation between myself and Admiral Gaines. I'd appreciate your comments on this.

There is a time and place for such actions. Deanna and I understand the necessity of occasionally putting ourselves under the microscope, but it's my understanding that we are required to do so only at yearly intervals or upon occurrence of questionable behavior -- not every few months. My last mission logs are also attached. I needed a more experienced officer, I needed my first officer, and I didn't have her -- I fail to see how Commander Troi's presence was the only viable option for the *Mephistopheles.* If she had been in her assigned posting, the negotiations at Lokalis Ten would have gone more smoothly and I might have avoided several minor difficulties that could have easily become major.

I contest the necessity of this temporary reassignment, and unless a better explanation is provided I will be filing a formal complaint against Admiral Gaines.

And by the way, thank you again for making the effort to be at the wedding. I have since found out that you had to choose between us and the annual Command retreat in the Bahamas -- I'm flattered that you joined us on a holodeck in the Beta Quadrant instead. I'm sure it was a far cry from a sandy beach and ocean waves, and the nonstop party antics of Admiral D'Tok'alla.

 

\-------------------------

*****INITIATE TRANS -- RECIPIENT CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD, ENTERPRISE NCC 1701-E   ORIGIN STARFLEET COMMAND -- STARDATE 53315.33 -- HIGH SECURITY ENCRYPTION PROTOCOLS INVOKED *****

"Captain! What is this? Do you mean to tell me Commander Troi hasn't been on the *Enterprise* all this time?"

"Were you not aware of this, then?"

"I was *not* aware, and I should have been! Any modifications to the assignments of the senior officers of any of my ships, especially the flagship, should be cleared through me. Did Gaines lead you to believe that I had agreed to this?"

"Deanna received her orders directly from him, and neither of us questioned them. Given that he's an admiral and quite familiar with protocol, I'd assumed you knew of the temporary reassignment. We've worked with him before, after all, and we've never had reason to question whether or not he had Command's support or not. He knows this ship is under your jurisdiction, and I'd think that at the very least he'd have mentioned it to you in a memo. Could he have made an assumption based on prior consent for other projects?"

*32.5 second pause -- padds and objects shifted about*

"I will contact you shortly, Captain, regarding this matter. Nechayev out."

*****END TRANS*****

 

\-------------------------

*****INITIATE TRANS -- RECIPIENT CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD, ENTERPRISE NCC 1701-E --   ORIGIN SHUTTLE BRIMSTONE NCC-34523-C -- STARDATE 53316.25 *****

"Deebird! It's about time! What took you so long? I've been waiting since I got off shift."

"Jean. . . ."

"Cherie, is something wrong?"

"It's just seeing you live, that's all. I've missed you. . . ."

"I've missed you, too. In too many ways to count. Are on your way yet?"

"Yes. What have you been up to? I received a call from Nechayev -- she hadn't been aware that I wasn't aboard the *Enterprise*. She said you were filing a complaint?"

"I've had it with this nonsense of Gaines'. Had it. You aren't a counselor any more, and the Lokalis mission nearly became a diplomatic casualty of the circumstance. Ward and I don't work well together with him as an exec -- he's not experienced enough. I don't have time for it on sensitive missions! His uncertainty and hesitation were detrimental."

"Jean. . . you aren't just projecting your personal feelings on -- "

"You know better. Don't accuse me of that! Hell -- you sound as bad as Gaines! If you had been here, you would have gone down with me at least part of the time. They told me it was a sensitive situation, that if Lokalis joins the Federation the rest of this sector will probably follow and that it will result in peaceful negotiations with the Randra Alliance in the future -- and then my first officer is snatched off the ship and we're left in this unsettled state that had a discernable effect on the mission!"

"Why didn't you tell me about this? You've said nothing about Lokalis -- I assumed everything was going well."

"It would have been nothing you could do anything about -- you were following orders. Which I assumed Nechayev knew about. She didn't. Did she tell you anything else?"

"Yes. That's why I'm in a shuttle, and why I hadn't contacted you before now -- I'm six hours away, I've been traveling for two hours already at warp two, and I took the opportunity to put the helm on autopilot and sleep without the pressure of other presences around me. I'm exhausted, Jean. Being in a strange place among unfamiliar people wore me out. After we sign off, I'm going back to sleep."

"Then I should let you do that -- you look -- *damn* that Gaines! Damn him! Dee. . . all this, and if I'd only questioned sooner -- "

"Don't. I did help matters where I was, and I'm coming home now."

"I'll wait up for you. Both of you."

{sighing} "How long have you known?"

"I suspected before you left. You've been moody for a while. I didn't want to know yet -- I knew you were protecting me, too, in case you lost it again. The third gift told me -- I don't know who you had parceling them out to me, but you picked a smart deliveryman. It materialized on the table this morning at breakfast. I want to know who it was so I can find out how they managed using ship's systems to transport intraship without it being traceable."

"I'll tell you later."

"Is it. . . too soon to know gender?"

"I'm six weeks along. It's a boy."

"A boy. Dee. . . cygne, what heading are you on?"

"Diverting the ship for personal reasons, Captain?"

"Command *owes* me! What's your damn heading!"

"I gave it to deLio before he put me through to you. I've already accounted for your current course and speed in my estimated arrival time -- it would have taken more than eight hours, otherwise."

"Good! Excellent! Now, get some sleep. I have to find something to distract me for six hours."

"You could find out how Natalia beamed that last gift in. I have to admit I'm curious, too."

"Merde. I should have known. Dee. . . we were dreaming the same dream."

"I know. I think we have been, for a long time. Let's keep doing that, it seems to be working. What did you think of the gift?"

{incredulous chuckling} "I only wish I knew how you managed to sneak it onto the ship from Labarre. As I recall, I did the unpacking. Sleep, cygne, I'll see you in a while. I love you, cherie."

"I love you, Jean-Fish. Yves and I will be home soon."

*****END TRANS*****

 

\-------------------------

*****INITIATE TRANS -- RECIPIENT CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD, ENTERPRISE NCC 1701-E   ORIGIN STARFLEET COMMAND -- STARDATE 53316.51 -- HIGH SECURITY ENCRYPTION PROTOCOLS INVOKED *****

"Captain, please accept my apologies for what's happened. I think I have things under control. Has Commander Troi made it back to the *Enterprise* yet?"

"Not yet. She is en route, however. I hope my abruptness with Gaines -- "

"Jean-Luc, if you were abrupt, I shudder to think what you would call my demeanor when I spoke to him. His assumptions were based on prior discussion with me about Deanna's enhanced effectiveness as a first officer due to her years as a counselor, but he never came to me to discuss assigning her to *Mephistopheles.* Although her performance there was impressive and Gaines was right in that she was the best choice for the job, you were correct. The assignment should have been given to other personnel. She may have been the best one for the job, but the situation at Lokalis should have been the priority. . . are you all right?"

"I'm tired, Elena. Please tell me this isn't going to happen again. It's hard enough to make things work without becoming victims of our own bureaucracy. My patience is wearing thin where this probing into our relationship is concerned. Deanna and I are under enough stress, and. . . ."

"And now she's pregnant? Gaines mentioned that; evidently it caused complications with her empathic ability and had some effect on the mission, and she mentioned it in her logs. You had to be intentionally pursuing this -- though it confuses me, congratulations."

"Why would it confuse you any more than the marriage would?"

{dry laugh} "Good point. You're a masochist. Both of you are. Isn't that going to be difficult, having a first officer who is also carrying around your child into whatever risks you encounter?"

"More strenuous or risky away missions can be led by others. There are officers aboard who could use the experience. Diplomatic endeavors shouldn't be a problem, nor should the administrative part of the job. We can manage. We always do, when I have the right officers in the right places."

"That wasn't the question. I asked if it would be difficult -- for you. She isn't the first pregnant officer who ever walked on a bridge, though there have been precious few of them. We expect a few allowances to be made."

"You're asking a personal question."

"I forego the Bahamas to attend the wedding and rely entirely on reports from JAG and Starfleet Medical, and I'm not entitled to a single personal question?"

"It's always difficult, Elena. But as my favorite former counselor would point out, things that are worthwhile are never easy."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. Just one other question? Since I've caught you in such a relaxed state, and you're actually not being snappish about it?"

"As if I could prevent you from asking."

"Boy or girl?"

"Why do I get the feeling you're setting up a betting pool?"

"I'm a fleet admiral, Jean-Luc, I don't do things like that."

"His name is Yves. And I'd rather you didn't say anything to anyone, not for a while."

"Interesting request. How far along?"

"Six weeks. . . almost two months." {sniffing} "Amazing."

"That it's been almost two months?"

"That she didn't tell me until now. I suspected. She only confirmed it today."

"Jean-Luc. . . you have one of the most unique relationships. Most women would have said something the minute they suspected."

"She wanted to spare me, if she lost it. . . again."

*15 second pause*

"I'm sorry."

"So am I. But, {yawn} excuse me. It's been a long day."

"And you're waiting for her to get home. Jean-Luc, Gaines is answering for his behavior. A reprimand will be issued, at the least. But regardless of what happens to him -- any official temporary reassignments that come along will include a personal note from me, just for future reference and your sanity's sake. Feel free to question any that don't. Please convey my apologies to Deanna."

"I will, thank you. You know -- for someone who was so opposed to this whole idea in the beginning, you're being terribly supportive. As I recall, when I first spoke with you about Deanna you were ready to yank my ship out from under me for suggesting I might have a relationship with a fellow officer who, at the time, was further down on the chain of command than first officer."

"I would have done it, too. But the idea that Jean-Luc Picard would suggest such a thing -- your reputations saved you, Jean-Luc."

"You know, I could develop an inferiority complex, if you keep laughing at me like that."

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking how unlikely it is that you'd have made it this far with anyone *but* a psychologist. Good night, Jean-Luc."

"Good night, Elena."

*****END TRANS*****

\-------------------------

She came in slowly, looking around at their rooms as if it were the first time she'd been there. Immaculate as always in the living room -- and the bedroom. Somehow she'd expected a mess there. It usually fell to her to keep it picked up and she knew he'd have spent as little time in their rooms as he could. Probably part of his distraction tactics to clean it up.

He'd fallen asleep. Clad in a grey robe, his chest showing through the gap, hands resting lightly on his ribs and a book tented over his right shoulder. She watched him breathe for a moment, wanting to fall on him and cling desperately, but just looking at him there brought a surge of contentment and joy. Beau poisson.

The third gift, the one she'd brought with her from the chateau in Labarre, sat on the table on his side of the bed. She and Marie had been going through some of the stored mementos during their visit and found a carefully-packed box of baby things. The rattle had been one of them, and Marie guessed it'd been either Jean-Luc's or Robert's; she'd recognized the handwritten label on the top of the box as Yvette's. Simple, durable, and light, the rattle was a circle of long-lasting yellow plastic attached to a big-eyed, smiling yellow duck. Instead of a rattling noise, it quacked when shaken. She wondered if Jean-Luc actually remembered it -- he'd recognized it was from home, after all.

His slight smile broadened, and a hand moved toward her, reaching. He'd awakened. She came closer, brought her hand up palm to palm with his, brushed her fingers along from wrist to fingertip -- his closed on hers and he pulled, harder than expected, bringing her down across him. An arm went around her, a hand to the back of her head, and their mouths met.

Aching need, burning desire, and love -- he wanted so acutely, and in her pregnant state, with her empathy so sensitive and the bond between them flaming to life, she felt it as if it were her own. It *was* her own as well, spilling back to him to inflame him further.

Shoving the book off the bed, he rolled and pinned her, working at her uniform. She let him do all of it and concentrated on him -- she'd missed the warmth of his body, his weight, the taste of his skin, and his sighs and the sounds of his lips as he tasted and kissed her throat.

His efforts slowed as he took off her shirt; taking care to pull off the pips first, he removed it and tossed it aside, then lay on her, propped on his elbows looking down at her. She let her arms settle around his neck and looked back. From the way he'd put his desire down and let concern and uncertainty creep in, she thought she could predict what he was thinking.

Smiling, she wrapped her legs over his, the necessary angle for the maneuver opening her thighs wide. Kissing him again seemed to be all the reassurance necessary. He pulled off her bra while he returned the kiss fervently.

Ah -- his hand, then his mouth, closed on her breast. Thankfully the earlier soreness had abated considerably and it actually felt good. Better, he pressed in as if asking permission, the slowness of entry giving her the opportunity to enjoy the process of being filled with him for the first time in too long.

Then she felt his body go tense, and again, and he brought his mouth up to hers. His fervor waned again.

{Let go. It's all right. I want you -- }

Her encouragement freed him. He moaned into her mouth, thrusting hard and swift. Crying happy tears, she made encouraging noises and clung to him. They hit the climax seconds apart -- she followed him up, losing herself in their world of fire and dancing. Flames roared in her ears. Bright, white-hot, joyful -- floating.

He was laughing, not just feeling it but doing it, falling to the side and laying tangled with her. Laughing -- dancing inside, happiness whirling and taking her with it. He'd found release, in more than one sense. Anxiety had fled. He'd been worried about the bond, she realized, not the baby. Kissing her over and over, down her face and in her hair, he rubbed her arm and pressed close, his breath playing over her skin.

"Hajira," she murmured.

"We need to talk about it -- duty, and how this will affect it. But tomorrow. How are you? How do you feel? Have you had morning sickness all this time and not told me? What about the effect of hybridization, is there anything -- "

"Jean-Fish. Slow down. Hold me?"

Pulling her close against his chest obediently, he rolled on his back and cradled her -- he'd gone gentle, as he had after the miscarriage and after her near-fatal injuries a year before. His hand flattened into the small of her back.

"Back rub?"

Deanna sighed, smiling into his neck -- proud papa at work. This would be something to memorize, these months of Jean-Luc being attentive and supportive in a different way than usual.

"Maybe later. It's good to be back. We both need sleep, Jean, we have to get up in the morning -- I'm sure there must be a briefing in the works with another mission coming up."

"In the afternoon. We're sleeping in. I need to catch up with you, we have a lot to discuss, and I'd rather do it in a place more conducive to interruptions."

Coinciding emotions told her what kind of interruptions. "You're the captain. Do I have to sleep with my boot on?"

Laughing, he finished discarding her clothing -- in his hurry he'd left one boot on with her pants and underwear bunched around it. He even tucked her in, rearranging the covers around her, kissing her lightly.

"Want something to drink?"

"No," she said suspiciously. "Jean, I'm pregnant -- not an invalid. Why are you being so. . . we're not still lingering in the aftermath of alternate universe possibilities, are we?"

His reaction to her half-jest shocked her -- he had been climbing under the covers as she spoke, and slid across to put an arm around her, head on her shoulder. All normal enough behaviors, but anxiety spiked to a new high. She reviewed what he'd told her about her alternate self's behavior.

"Lights off." The stars brightened in the viewports as darkness fell in the room. Stroking the back of his neck, she whispered, "I'm not the same person. I'm not undisciplined, and I wouldn't behave the way she did. If you're going to be affectionate I'd rather you did so because you felt that way, and not because you think I'll wander off looking for satisfaction elsewhere. Get some sleep, cher fish, and we'll talk in the morning."

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled. Smiling. He'd settled into peaceful bliss. "I missed you. Promise me you'll always come home."

"Stop it. You know better than to think I wouldn't."

"I picked up my shoes."

"I can see that. I'm very impressed. Sleep."

The slight weight of his arm and his closeness lulled her into comfortable half-slumber, until he mumbled, "When do you think you'll be able to sense him?"

"Jean!"

"Sorry."

She giggled. "Actually, you're cute when you're this way. Why don't you just lay there feeling that happy and let me sleep, how's that?"

"Can't."

"Oh, god, I knew you'd be the horny type. I knew sleeping on the shuttle was a good idea. All right, this time I'm calling the shots -- on your back, shut up, and hang on."

"To what?"

"Now you're just being difficult. You'll figure it out. You've had enough practice, heaven knows -- if effort counted for anything we'd have a dozen children by now."

"Only a dozen?"

"I thought I gave you an order to shut up."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. . . do you think he'll have -- "

"Jean. . . ."

"I love you, cygne."

"And you talk too much -- but I love you, too, cher poisson.__

__

_   
_


End file.
